Talk dirty to me, John'
by AliceAo
Summary: Sherlock is surprised by how his body reacts to John's voice. Very hot results


"Talk dirty to me, John" AliceA Summary:

Sherlock is surprised by how his body reacts to John's voice.  
Very hot results.

Notes:

Hi everyone,  
Sorry it has been a while,  
Got accepted into an actually Writing programme for next year.  
Practice makes perfect

not my characters, don't own any of it, la di daw, etc.

Criticism appriciated.  
Leave your comments if desired.

Thanks for all the love, really really appreciate it  
:D

Work Text:

"Oooooooooough" Sherlock moaned, exhaling a lungful of carbon dioxide into the empty flat. He was sitting in his chair gliding the long fragile bow against the strings of his violin, sweet, sharp notes filling the room. His eyelids fluttered and a dark cheeky grin played across his lips.

He was thinking, as if he could do anything else.

His usually sterile mind was filled with potent and fluid fantasies of an illustrious nature. He had conjured them the night before in his dreams. His resting hours are usually filled with placid blankness or mathematical equations of his own invention, but that night had been different. Vivid and very arousing images of his flatmate had seeped into the depths of his brain from the night before.

It had been sparked by the repetitive pounding of the headboard of said flatmate's bed against the wall, followed by low, muffled groans getting faster, and faster, and faster, until Sherlock could hear her, John's latest escapade, shouting:

_Harder, harder, harder, fuck me, right there, oh yes, oh god YES, harder, oh god, oh, oh, fuck me doctor, fuck me, FUCK ME! _

The manic spurts of ecstasy were causing Sherlock's relatively unused male organ to stir. As perplexed as Sherlock had been about his sexuality in the past it was only when he started to hear John following in his lovers very verbal throes of passion that Sherlock really began to question himself. With every grunt, every carnal moan, every _Aw yeah, yeah, like that? Oh god, you like that don't you, you bad, bad thing! Mmmm, yeeeeeeeeeeeees. Oh god, fuck, I'm-, I'm-, I'm gonna…" _

It was only when both participants had reached their enjoyable climax and settled into their post-coital cuddling positions that Sherlock let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked down and noticed that the front of his pyjama bottoms were very constricted and raised from the waistline by the force of his erection.

Sherlock reached his long slender fingers into the gap between cloth and skin, tracing a faint line along the trail of hair before grasping his length in his hand. The touch was welcomed by an unforced buckling of his hips.

_Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwh, _he moaned in the confines of his own room. He began to stroke the length of his cock with his fingertips, playing with the very rarely pleasured skin. His cock pulsed in his own hand. He began to replay the noises that had just emerged from the other bedroom and as their mingled voices grew louder in his head the speed of his hand increased. Thrust after thrust the voices started to separate, single out until the only voice fuelling his desire, John's seductively orgasmic voice,

_HARDER, HARDER, HARDER, FUCK ME SHERLOCK HOLMES!_

With that, Sherlock reached his own orgasm and spilled out into his hands, the hot fluid waking him up from his fantasy. He looked around his room, mildly expecting to see the doctor's muscled body standing over him.

Back in the sitting room, Sherlock began to remember it again. The sounds, oh the sound of John saying his same over and over again. It was only then he realised that the memories were once again causing his tight custom tailored trousers to tighten further around the groin.

He smirked. The flat was empty and John wasn't expected back until late, he was having a lad's night out with Lestrade and Anderson. The flash of the latter man's face nearly broke the built up pressure in his pants, but he batted the face and the name away, he was having too much fun with his own pleasures.

He placed the violin and bow into its casing and trailed his hand down the front of his own body, only slightly aware that he was not in his own private quarters and began to reach in between the stretched fabric.

With one fluid motion his enlarged member sprang from his trousers and he started stroking the length of his shaft again, thinking about the noises. Sherlock found himself bringing John's face into the front of his mind and imagined the faces that accompanied the noises he had emitted. The doctor's jaw relaxed and mouth gaping open, his closed eyes widened with sensation and fluttered minimally. Sherlock felt his mouth water and his own eyes fluttering, like a schoolgirl. He began to pump at his own throbbing erection, the world around him phasing out from his peripheries.

Minutes passed of uninterrupted bliss, John's face in his mind and his voice in his ears. Sherlock groaned harder, his teeth clenched together and he threw his head back against the back of the chair.

He was getting closer and closer, the pounding never slowing, never failing. His own hand had been replaced with the imagined hand of his flatmate, thick around his cock.

More and more heated breaths escaped him and he could feel the orgasm curl in bottom of his stomach. One, two more fluid motions and he could hear heavy footsteps of the staircase.

His eyes opened wide with shock and he quickly slotted the now solid mass back into his trousers.

John entered the room. It smelled strange, like heat and want.

_Maybe it's just the drink. _John thought, pushing a lungful of air through his lips.

He could see Sherlock sitting upright in his own chair, cushion on his lap, his eyes alive and eager. John looked around the room, his eyes trying to adjust to the fast motion, trailing a second behind his head, before returning them to the detective once more.

"Ssssherlock-" he muttered "-w-why does the room smell like sex?" the words falling from him mouth beyond his control.

In response, his flatmate's face curled into a long line, deep with hidden meaning.

"No idea, John, good night?" he quickly changed the subject.

"Yeah, s'pose" John slurred, not realising the last drink had had such an effect on his speech.

Sherlock simply stared at him, no, not at him, through him. Like he was reading the older man's thoughts. The man in the chair was looking particularly well tonight, purple shirt, just tight enough to show some of his lean torso through the material and suit trousers, which were being concealed beneath a cushion.

"What?" John inquired, an inquisitive laugh under his breath.

After a long pause, Sherlock broke the silence.

"You were quite… vocal… last night" his face distorted with a large gangly smile.

John paused and remembered.

"Oh," is all he replied.

There was another awkward pause before Sherlock broke it again.

"Don't be embarrassed, dear John. I was rather enjoying the show."

John's brows knitted together just before Sherlock stood up, throwing the cushion away and revealing the rather large bulge in the front of his trousers.

John's eyes widened on inspection of the bulge. Big. Very big. And rock solid from the looks of it.

"How-" John started but Sherlock cut him off.

"Your noises were having a significant effect on me, _you bad, bad thing_"

The sound of his own words in Sherlock's mouth was having and unexpected effect on his own member.

Sherlock was across the room in three long glides, now face to face with the shorter man. The stared at each other for what felt like an age, examining each other's faces.

Sherlock's penetrative eyes scrutinizing the entirely of his face, finding meanings in the deep frows of his brow, his permanent grin stretched even wider than before, but John couldn't read the cause on his face, or maybe he was afraid to find out why.

The tension between the two men was tangibly thick with heat and desire, neither wanting to make the next, enviable move.

"I-" John started, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"You?" Sherlock kept prying, wanting, begging for an excuse to close the gap. They were inches from each other's faces. John held his breath, not knowing what to say.

"I-" began again "-want…" he stopped again, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"What do _you_ want, John" the taller man growled into his left hear, closing in inch by precious inch.

The warmth of the other man's breath sent a shiver down John's spine and he shuddered visibly.

"want.."

"Yeeeeees, Jooohn" Sherlock hiss, bringing his hand up and placing it flat on the other man's chest.

"Ooooough, you" he exhaled.

And with that Sherlock had John pinned to the wall, their mouths colliding in laps of wet, hot kisses full of desire and lust. Sherlock's hands were trailing up and down John's body, grabbing handfuls of cloth and pulling himself in closer to the pinned man. He grabbed John's bottom lip between his teeth and played with the skin, before closing the space parted his puffed lips granting the taller man access, which he quickly obliged, darting his tongue into John's open mouth.

They stood moaning against the wall for some time, John's hands instinctively reaching for the buttons, prying each one open from its corresponding loop. He could feel Sherlock grin against his lips before plunging his tongue deeper into the doctor's open yearning mouth.

They lapped their tongues together tasting, feeling each other's pulse quickening, getting harder and harder, their breaths unable to keep up.

At last they broke the embrace and panted into the space between them, filling the void with heat. Sherlock stood bare chested in front of the shorter hand and before he could stop himself, John had taken his left nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the now rock solid nub of pleasure.

Sherlock gasped and let out a long, very loud moan in response. Gauging Sherlock's response, John pulled back and sucked is index finger into his mouth, wetting it, licking it until it was soaked with spit, not breaking eye contact with the man before him, whose eyes were wide with a burning desire.

John removed his finger from his mouth with a pop and started to rub Sherlock now red from pressure nipple with the wettened finger, and placing his lips to Sherlock's other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He massaged the nub with his left hand and sick the right nipple, clasping it between his lips and flicking over the skin with his tongue.

Sherlock followed this with an even louder moan, planting his hands against the wall for support, his knees weakening from pleasure. John smiled against the nipple and pulled his mouth of it with a distressed moan from the detective.

"How about…" he spoke between feverish kisses "… we continue this… in my room?"

Sherlock grabbed the man's hand, wet from saliva, and practically dragged him towards to room, not even responding to the question. They stood panting at the door as John tried to unlock it.

"Why do you even bother locking the door?" Sherlock whined, pressing his very hard erection into the doctor's behind.

John groaned before answering, "Because you left a tank full of spiders in there the last time I left it unlocked and they all escaped!"

"Oh, how are you still annoyed about that" Sherlock reached around and started to pull at John's clothed erection.

"Oh, god, yes… shut up, you fool" before turning around and planting another wet kiss onto Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock moaned against the pressure and continued tugging at John's very constricted trousers.

"This will have to do" Sherlock responded before dropping to his knees.

The sight of this made John collapse against the door, mouth gaping open.

Within seconds Sherlock had John's trousers down and his cock in his mouth. John braced himself against the door, looking for something to hold on to, in the end he resorted to twining his fingers into Sherlock's dark curly hair.

Sherlock pulled on John's cock with his whole mouth and sucked at the dark red head.

"Talk to me, John, I want to make you quiver" Sherlock spoke his breath blowing on John's wet cock.

Without even thinking about the request John started to monologue.

"You like sucking my cock, don't you?"

Sherlock moaned and the vibrations sent another shiver up John's spine.

"You like having it in your mouth, all of me, but you can take it all." He responded by buckling his hips. Sherlock adjusted to the shift in weight, swallowing more of the doctor in his mouth, gaging slightly.

"How much do you want me, Sherlock, tell me!"

Sherlock pulled back once more and uttered "So fucking much" before plunging his mouth over the entire length of John.

It was too much for the doctor and he reach his climax, moaning into the open air, feeling the liquid leave his aching cock in ribbons.

Sherlock drank it all in and swallowed loudly, making a point to the standing man.

John slide down the door frame and heaved heavily in Sherlock's face, mouth gaping open.

Sherlock planted kisses all down John's neck, knowing not to put his lips to John's.

After a few minutes of silence John looked up and down at the crouching form of the bare chested man and noticed something.

"Where did yours go?" gesturing between his legs.

"Oh, well, eh-" he started, "-you got me at 'how much do do you want me?'"

Both men looked to the floor and noticed a long feathery stain on the carpet and laughed in deep heavy breaths.

"I'll clean it in the morning" Sherlock said, trying to regain his breath, licking his lips.

"No need. It'll remind me that this wasn't all a dream" John laughed.

"Oh, it was all a dream to me" Sherlock smirked before resting himself against John's body, now lying flat on the floor, the other man's arms wrapping themselves around the detective and they both fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
